Belated Introductions
by natalieashe
Summary: John is introduced to Sherlock's younger brother Q and his partner James Bond - rather belatedly as it happens...


**A/N: Bondlock! Didn't know it existed until this week (yes I know, I live under a rock) but now I do, I am in love! So many stories mention the similarities between Sherlock and Q I thought it would be fun if something like this happened.**

John Watson was unbelievably tired. He trudged up the stairs to 221b wishing for nothing more than a hot shower, cup of tea and maybe some sex if Sherlock was in the mood and could be persuaded to stay in bed for longer than five minutes. The detective had deigned to cuddle for precisely twenty minutes the previous night before declaring himself wide awake and leaping from the bed to go off and do whatever the hell he did when normal people were sleeping. He returned shortly after 3am with icy hands and feet, snuggling into his lover until John felt he was sharing a bed with a particularly clingy chilly octopus, and then promptly left again an hour later, totally refreshed. Yep, John was knackered thanks to his selfish, irritating, insomniac boyfriend.

The shower was already running when he opened the door and John grinned to himself, cheering up considerably. Shower sex! Kill two birds with one stone and then curl up in bed, minding a little less if Sherlock wanted to stay up to study mould or plot Mycroft's downfall, or whatever, while he caught up on much needed zeds. He headed down the hall casting off clothing as he went, slipping unnoticed into the steam filled bathroom and sliding his hands around his lover's hips, pressing himself to his broad back and seeking lower things.

Things went very weird, very quickly. The body was subtly wrong, waist a little too narrow, shoulders a little less broad and a distinctly not-Sherlock voice queried "James?"

"Jesus buggering fuck!" Yelped John, diving out of the shower and coming nose to barrel with a gun. "Fuck!" He squeaked, an octave higher than he would've liked but army instinct took over and he froze in place, following the barrel up a muscular arm to a blond god of a man wrapped in one of their smaller towels.

"Um...?" He said intelligently, not daring to make any sudden moves.

"As a matter of decorum you may wish to cover yourself before I shoot you," the blond god smiled chillingly. His posture was surprisingly relaxed for a semi-naked man pointing a gun, but the arm was solid, unwavering, and his eyes... Dear god, those eyes were beautiful and terrifying all at once.

"Um...?" John said again, this time slightly hysterically. The wet not-Sherlock was chuckling behind him.

"Let the man get a towel James, don't be mean."

The god - James apparently - sighed and nodded at the rack. John grabbed the first towel he could lay his hands on and clutched it around him protectively, already assessing his chances of getting out of the flat without being shot or exposing himself to Mrs Hudson. There was a commotion outside the bathroom door and Sherlock pushed his way into the small room.

"Oh hello John, you're back," he greeted, completely unconcerned at the overcrowded nature of the situation.

"Sherlock, why is our bathroom full of naked men?" He asked through gritted teeth, pleased that his tone had the right level of 'I am so going to kill you' and less of the 'I was so scared I nearly pissed myself'.

"Ah, yes. John Watson, meet my younger brother, who goes by the name of Q, and his partner James Bond. They have a thing, like we have a thing."

Even in his unclothed, uncomfortable state John still managed to hiss out 'relationship' under his breath just before registering the most important and disturbing fact.

"Bloody hell, there are three of you?" He cast his eyes heavenward and prayed "what the hell did I do, you bastard?"

Bond snorted and finally lowered the gun. "I know that feeling well. Welcome to hell."

"Oi!" Exclaimed Holmes number three - and really, Queue was a stupid name even for a Holmes - poking his head around the shower curtain. "If it helps, I'm the normal sane one. I believe the traditional greeting is a handshake but as we've already been rather more intimate we'll forego that." He winked and disappeared back into the cloud of steam.

"Bloody hell," John said weakly sitting heavily on the closed loo seat. "Is there any point in me asking what or why?"

"Classified sorry," said god-Bond.

"Need to know basis," said not-Sherlock over the sound of the shower.

"They work for MI6," said Sherlock with an odd little touch of uncharacteristic pride in his younger sibling.

"Of course they bloody do." He pushed himself to his feet. "Well if this is for bloody Queen and Country I better go make us all some tea!"


End file.
